


Anywhere is Eden: Purple Week

by Daisy_PoisonPen



Series: Anywhere is Eden: The Smut Chronicles [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Connor, Daddy Kink, Hank Daddy, Hank and Connor are in love, Hank still didn't expect this, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I have issues, M/M, Master Reed, Master/Slave, Other, Porn, Protective Hank Anderson, Severe Daddy Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, but i'm going with it, but they are in an open relationship, kink ensues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 22:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15805503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_PoisonPen/pseuds/Daisy_PoisonPen
Summary: Connor and Hank fell in love after the revolution. Hank is Connor's Daddy and they love to have kinky play time on the weekends when things are slow. when Gavin Reed demanded his own playtime, Daddy Hank had to make sure that his boy would be alright... and had a little fun in the process.





	Anywhere is Eden: Purple Week

**Author's Note:**

  * For [garden_hoe21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/garden_hoe21/gifts).



> I blame this on the discord server. that is all.  
> for my fellow thirsty hoe, Garden Hoe.  
> side note, Connor feels pain and pleasure here, and he can taste. Basically, all the upgrades that make Connor the perfect bottom, he went and got them, the slutty bastard ;)

**FRIDAY  
** JULY 22, 2039 **  
** **08:49:52 AM**

HANK ISN'T AT HIS DESK when Connor comes in, and it's just as well. When he walks into the building, he flicks his quarter from his right hand to his left, using his palm as a track instead of catching the coin, and letting it roll onto the back of his hand. It races back and forth a couple of times across his knuckles before flicking it up as the elevator opens. While the coin is in the air, Connor reaches into his pocket and pulls a purple sucker out, unwrapping it and sticking it in his mouth as the coin lands, heads up, neatly in his right palm.

Connor isn't fond of the purple. Its artificial flavor tastes too strongly of all of its components and not enough like its intended taste, but he licks it with purpose as he walks into the bullpen. It's Reed that sees it first. His eyebrows shoot up, but he just turns back to his paperwork, his expression thoughtful.

Hank is more flustered when he sees it. “You've got to warn me in advance before you start bringing purple suckers in here, kid. Jesus.”

Connor shrugs. The very tip of his tongue is flicking at the candy in a way that's precise and very distracting to Hank, who huffs every time he looks up. Connor enjoys distracting him like this. Last week, the sucker had been yellow. That had been an excellent weekend.

He smiles to himself. This will be an excellent weekend too.

* * *

 

GAVIN REED is always angry with himself when he misses something, even if it's not important. It's always been that way, since he was a kid. It's even worse now, because it's his job to notice things as a detective now. He works extremely hard to be the absolute best at what he does, and as a result, he is very hard on himself.

So, when he realized that the damn lollipops were the cue, he was honestly fucking furious. Every Friday or every other Friday, Connor would walk into the bullpen flicking his goddamn coin and flicking his tongue over a blue sucker like it was the day after Halloween, and Hank's eyes would practically fall out of his head.

Connor had calmly explained that he and Hank were in a different relationship, and that the blue sucker indicated that he wanted to play. Reed, greedy, jealous bastard that he was, demanded his own color sucker. Two weeks later, Connor had practically danced into the bullpen with a yellow sucker.

It had been a long, long time since Gavin had played like that.

* * *

 

THE PURPLE SUCKER was Hank's idea. Connor had been honest, letting Hank know that Gavin had wanted his own sucker. Hank had given rules—he hadn't trusted Gavin at first given his history with Connor—but Sunday night came and Gavin had dropped Connor off with a sweet pat on the cheek—and on his ass cheek—and Connor had positively glowed, which was confusing when he saw the bruised, glitching skin of his wrists and ankles, and the perfectly parallel strikes across his back.

It took a long time for Connor to convince him that he'd enjoyed himself, but even still, _Connor_ is _his_ to protect, and he wants to make sure that he is always safe. Hence the purple sucker. The rule for the blue sucker was playtime with Hank. The rule for the yellow was playtime with Gavin. The purple sucker? The purple sucker was for Hank to watch.

The drive to Gavin's is short. Connor spends the whole time squeezing his thighs together, which makes Hank flick his knee. He parts his legs like he's supposed to, but within a few minutes, he's pressing them together again. Hank frowns, but doesn't say anything else.

That gives Connor a strange mix of emotions—he's disappointed with himself for his lack of control, angry at his disobedience, and anxious because he knows he'll be punished for this now—and he parts his knees again.

Gavin's house is in a suburb and it's a decent sized house. Hank is the one who knocks. Connor stands behind him, his hands folded behind him.

Gavin's smile for Hank is cordial, but when he sees Connor, his face drops into a cool, expressionless calm. “Come,” he says, turning on his heel and leading the way into the basement. Connor has to fight not to, and the play of words pulls at his lips in a smirk.

Hank hasn't seen Gavin's house before, much less his playroom. There's a bed with hooks on the posts and in the ceiling above in one corner. There's a triangle cross, a stockade bench, and a whipping post. There's also a custom table with hooks all around, just large enough for a person and upholstered with rich leather.

Connor sucks in a sharp breath as he sees the stockade bench.

Master stands in front of him, but he doesn't dare meet his eyes. “Such a pretty cockslut,” he murmurs. “Are you ready?”

Connor nods, his words somehow stuck in his throat.

“I need to hear you,” Master growls.

“Y-yes,” he whispers.

“Yes fucking _what_?”

“Yes, Master Reed.”

“Good boy.”

Daddy raises an eyebrow, and Master shrugs. “He explained your play to me, so I am prepared. _Daddy,_ ” he teases. He barely hears Connor whimper. “Oh what, you want Daddy to fuck you too, now? We'll see, you greedy little shit.”

Connor perks up hopefully, but Daddy frowns. “I don't know, the kid doesn't keep his legs open for me, he must not want me to fuck him that badly.”

And with that sentence, Connor drops to his knees, making sure to keep them spread apart. He folds his arms behind his back, and he pleads. “M-master, I won't do it again, I promise.”

Master ignores him, turning to Daddy. “Anything you don't want?”

“Not the whipping post.”

“Aww, it's my favorite.”

“You left his skin glitching and bruised for almost two weeks,” Daddy hisses.

“So you don't want me to mark him.” Master is almost pouting.

“Not that bad, no. And no damage. If his LED starts turning red, I don't care if he hasn't asked, the game is over.”

“Fine. Anything else?”

“You had better not come in his ass. He’s _mine,_ and you’re lucky you get to play with him.”

“Wow, okay,” Gavin grins. “I didn’t know you had such a possessive streak.”

“I do,” Hank says flatly.

“Fine, then. I won’t come in his ass. Am I allowed to come in him at all?”

“In his mouth if you want. On him wherever you want. But his ass is _mine._ ”

“Understood. And is there anything else?”

Hank shakes his head. “That’s all that he discussed with me.”

“Very good.” He turns to Connor, who is still kneeling. “Stand up, take your clothes off, and go to the cross.”

“Yes, Master Reed.”

When he kneels in front of the cross, Master Reed already is already laying out several of what he knows are Connor's favorites: a a single whip, a few different floggers, and one that he hates, the switch.

He also has set out a flat, black box which he opens. “I had something made for you. With Daddy's approval, of course.” He opens the box to reveal five circles of leather, all black with gold buckles and triangle-shaped loops. “Tonight is a perfect opportunity for you to wear them for the first time.”

Connor holds perfectly still while Reed wraps first his neck, and then his wrists in the soft, new leather. Connor can't describe the feeling that tightens his throat when the last buckle clips into place, but he finds that he likes it. Very, _very_ much.

From now until the end of the weekend, there is no Detective Reed or Hank. Only Master and Daddy. There is no Connor, RK800 deviant detective, either. Only a cockslut that does what he is told. Despite having fought hard for his freedom like the others, cockslut finds this change refreshing.

Daddy will observe their play and has promised not to interfere with it unless he is afraid for cockslut's wellbeing. Master Reed has agreed that there might be a chance that he'll have both his and Daddy's cocks, and he is excited at the possibility even though Daddy was angry at him earlier.

He is still anxious about what his punishment will be, but he knows Master Reed enjoys his torment, so he won't wait for long. Surely enough, Master Reed stands in front of him with a terrifying expression. “I'm disappointed in you. Daddy has to repeat himself too much with you,” he says testily. “I'm not going to let you have use of your legs for the rest of this session. When you're standing, it will be with a spreader bar, and otherwise, your legs will be restrained. You will crawl everywhere I want you to go. Maybe you can convince Daddy that you're a good little slut and that you're worthy of his cock that way.”

Cockslut nods, his LED turning once in a yellow circle as he internalizes the order. He will do whatever he has to. Daddy is nodding with approval at this, and cockslut is eager to please him again.

“Good. Stand and face the cross. Raise your arms over your head and present yourself to me.” The bar is quickly clipped to the leather cuffs at his ankles, and the ones at his wrists are also clipped up, at the loops at the very ends of the cross, shaped like an upside down triangle.

He is spread out now, every part of him exposed for the flogger in Master Reed's hand. Cockslut knows what will happen now: Master Reed will administer at least twenty strikes with the flogger, first lightly, and then progressively harder. Then he will find out what his actual punishment is. Cockslut is already wincing because he knows it will probably be with the switch.

The strikes start out light like he anticipated, and he allows himself to release the tension in his back and limbs. The strikes increase in strength, stinging across his back and ass, making him twitch a little bit. When they stop, hands run all over his back, which feels hot where they touch. “You're going to receive ten strikes with the switch, Cockslut,” Master Reed says in his ear. “For not knowing your place.”

Cockslut just hangs his head. _I know my place,_ he wants to say. _I'm just here to take cock and serve Master._ But that plea will fall on deaf ears.

The whistle of it in the air makes him want to tense again, but he doesn't. Master Reed instructs him to keep count out loud, and Cockslut tries to stay relaxed, not being able to do anything but give himself to the pain.

The first strike comes down on his left ass cheek, which jumps in protest in a way Hank finds impressively human. He frowns at the pale blue stripe left in its place, but the way his breath escapes in a whimper is oddly reassuring. _He'll ask Gavin to stop if he needs it. Stop stressing._

The fifth strike lands across both ass cheeks in a perfectly straight line. Connor groans the count, and he sees Gavin say something into his ear. Connor nods, and the _whistle-thwap_ of the switch on his synthetic skin echoes in the room. Later, Hank will see that Connor confirmed that Gavin was asking his status, and Connor had given him the signal to continue.

Hank releases a breath he didn't know he was holding when Gavin puts the switch back down. Connor is shaking. Gavin lets him stew in the pain for a moment, putting away everything except for the single whip.

When Connor hears the distinct cracking sound, his knees threaten to give. Hank can see how his cock is perking up, how his sweet, striped ass seems to be suddenly damp right in between his cheeks and down to his spread-open thighs. “The single whip is cockslut's favorite toy, isn't it?”

“Yes, Master Reed, _please—”_

“Good slut,” Reed praises. There's a black ring in his palm, which he flattens to show to the boy. He fits it gently over the semi-erection and the balls, and it tightens snugly against his sensitive skin. “You're not going to come until Daddy or I allow you to.”

“Yes, Master Reed,” the cockslut whispers. He is already trembling with need, and he’s almost afraid of how long this weekend is going to get.

Daddy stands up from his seat when the first strike of the whip snaps at Connor’s back. The whimper makes his cock twitch this time, making him keenly aware of the fact that he is still wearing pants. Standing on the other side of the contraption Connor is attached to, he realizes that he can easily reach through and around the arms of the triangle cross. He reaches around and flicks Connor’s left nipple, and Connor’s eyes fly open as he gasps. Daddy’s lips tick upward on the left side, and his hand follows, flicking at Connor’s right nipple too. He lives for the sweet little plea the falls from Connor’s lips. “Daddy _please…_ ”

He smooths his hands over the pale skin of the boy’s chest, not resisting the urge to pinch them. Seeing this, Master Reed also get a wicked smirk on his face. He turns to a large chest that is sitting in the side of the room, opening it to reveal several layers of displays and organizers. At the very top sit several small, delicate chains and nipple clamps. He chooses a chain that is fairly long and adds a set of clamps that have a black rubber coating on the ends. He hands them to Daddy, who stares at Master Reed like he’s losing his mind.

Master shrugs. “You wanted to know what had your boy so undone that monday,” he says with a shrug. “His sensory input whatevers get especially glitchy in that area when he’s aroused. You’ll see, he’ll be begging to come and crying out of his cock within minutes.”

Daddy tilts his head and studies Connor, the way his body arches against the precise sting of the whip. Deciding how he wants to play this, he wraps the chain behind the cross, clamping Connor’s nipples and effectively strapping them down. “Now,” he warns, “If you manage to rip those off, not only is it going to hurt, but Master Reed is going to have to bring out that switch again. We don’t want that, do we, baby?”

Connor shakes his head desperately, “No, Daddy,” he whimpers.

“Then be a good boy and hold still while Master and Daddy play with you.”

Connor nods, his desperate whimpers ratcheting up to straight up screams when the whip lands on his back and his answering jerk causes the clamps to yank mercilessly on his sensitive chest. Satisfied with his little game, Daddy pulls up a chair and sits right in front of the cross, and begins to play with Connor’s cock.

Master Reed eventually puts the whip away, and cockslut just wants to sag in relief, but he knows this night isn’t over yet. Master Reed is pacing behind him now, probably admiring the way he decorated cockslut’s back. He wishes he could see it too.

As if Daddy could read his mind, Daddy says, “You’d make such a pretty picture like this, face red from crying, back all marked up, cock slobbering all over my hand. You’d look just like you were made for this, wouldn’t you?”

Master Reed laughs. “See, I told you, tormenting this little shit is the best time. What do you think, do we let him come today?”

Cockslut can’t help himself. He whines. “ _Daddy… please, please--”_

Daddy shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says casually. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Cockslut trembles. He doesn’t dare to shake his head no, even though he wants to protest. He doesn’t need any more punishment today.

Master Reed’s smirk is positively evil, Cockslut is sure. “You wanna fuck his ass and I’ll fuck his throat?”

Daddy’s lips tick up again, and Cockslut hangs his head, defeated. He is a comedump, a plaything for his masters.

And he will not be coming at all tonight.

* * *

  **SATURDAY**  
JULY 23,2039  
3:12:58 PM

COCKSLUT PRIES his eyes open after his stasis to find himself wrapped in rope, it’s bite making the synthetic skin of his thighs, ankles, arms, wrists, and surprisingly, his eyes sensitive.

The rope is completely wrapped around his head in several loops, tightened around his eyes and making a rope blindfold, rendering him without any visual input. His arms are tied together behind his back from his elbows to his wrists, pulling his shoulder blades back as far as they can go. Knowing Master Reed, there’s probably an intricate knot pattern decorating his forearms now. Similarly, his ankles are tied to his thighs, and the knots, in turn, are hooked to opposite sides of… what is this, a sex bench, maybe? Probably custom made... rendering him helplessly open. He’s kneeling, albeit awkwardly, his chest resting on a padded section, leaving him holding his own head up comfortably and in the perfect angle for cock sucking.

“Are you awake, baby?” It’s Daddy’s voice, and he’s practically purring. “I have to give it to Master Reed, you’re certainly very pretty like this.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Cockslut answers. Daddy’s hand comes to rest on his cheek, and he nuzzles his palm contentedly. He admits, he likes being tied and presented to him this way.

“Your pretty little ass is still striped from yesterday.” Daddy’s hand smoothes over the mound of his cheek, and then the other one, leaving cockslut’s skin to twitch in protest.

“Daddy…”

“Today we’re doing things a little bit different,” Daddy says, his voice low and warm in a way that makes cockslut’s stomach tremble. “Today, you’ll come as much as you want. Since your anatomy allows for you to orgasm differently than a human man, namely, _a whole lot more,_ we are going to test your limits today.”

Cockslut feels his thirium run cold.

“You know Daddy loves making you scream when you come.”

He whimpers. And he waits.

* * *

 

HE DIDN’T HAVE to wait long. Cockslut found himself on the receiving end of a fucking machine, his mouth pulled apart by a spider-gag and reducing him to a come dump, quite literally. Master Reed left him to come on that damn machine for what felt like _ten_ _hours,_ but what ended up being only a couple. A human might have passed out at this point, but cockslut stubbornly grits his teeth against the wires of the spider gag through each orgasm. He’s starting to lose the ability to lubricate, his body can’t spare enough thirium now to synthesize the the lubricating fluids that make up his tears and saliva as well as his ejaculate and anal lubrication. He blinks the warning away, whimpering through one more spasm that rocks his body and leaves him utterly limp.

Master Reed taps his cock on cockslut’s tongue, and he sticks it out, wishing Master Reed would understand that he’s literally begging for this to end soon, he has literally cried and come himself dry.

“Hmm. your rope blindfold is soaked through.” He pushes into cockslut’s mouth leisurely, carefully feeling every part of his cock rub into the flesh of his cheeks and tongue. “Tell me, how long did it take you to start crying when you come?”

 _Twenty one minutes and forty eight seconds,_ cockslut answers in his head. He hasn’t quite figured out how to answer out loud except for a choked sob that is quickly cut off by Master’s cock. He tries to focus, to saver Master’s cock on his tongue, the feel and flavor of it, the girth and weight of it. He wants, no _he needs_ to be a good cocksucker. If he lets Master Reed down, he is afraid they’ll torment him until he runs out of thirium. The thought makes him whimper.

Hands slide down his back, over the ropes and the bruises from last night. They settle on his ass for a second, kneading it slightly before delivering two light swats, one to each cheek and one right after another. Each one makes him see white, and he comes again despite himself.

“That’s how Daddy loves you, baby,” a voice says in his ear. It is, in fact, Daddy, the tone of his voice making Connor impossibly wetter, more desperate. Another warning finds its way into his internal HUD. He blinks it away stubbornly. Daddy won’t make him go too far, he trusts Daddy. He wants to do this. He'll do this until he can't anymore.

He whimpers. His ass is sparking so much overstimulation into his system that everything about him feels like tv static--even getting near his skin is causing him to whimper. More tears wring themselves out of his eyes. They are escaping the rope blindfold now, and he can feel them cooling on his overheated face. Still, he sticks his tongue out. Pushes it stubbornly along the underside of Master Reed’s cock. Master Reed will come in his mouth soon, he can tell. _I can do this,_ he tells himself.

Master Reed’s load is almost soothing to him, and he accepts it and swallows it down with a sigh, utterly pleased with himself for being able to get himself through this. To satisfy the damn warning that keeps popping up in his head, he sends a message to Daddy’s and Master’s phones. _[My thirium levels are beginning to be depleted. Please allow me a pouch of thirium when I am released.]_ He’s not lying, that’s what the warning says. What he omitted was that dangerously low thirium is below 55% capacity, and he’s flirting with the upper 70’s. If he has to come more than three more times, he will reach 65% thirium capacity and probably black out as his systems automatically shut down some operations to help him stabilize himself and reserve as much of his remaining fluids as possible.

Then he realizes that it is now Daddy rubbing his perfect cock all over cockslut’s lips, and what is dragging across the very top of his ass is probably a riding crop. Master Reed came, but he wasn’t done playing yet.

\--

HE CAME FIVE TIMES. Black was already crowding his vision when he came for the fifth time, screaming around Daddy’s cock and sobbing against him for only a second before oblivion took him.

When he comes to, it is surprisingly Master Reed’s concerned eyes that take up most of his field of vision. He’s on the bed, but no longer in the playroom. “Connor? Are you alright?”

He checks himself carefully. His thirium levels are in the mid-70s, an improvement from the [63% THIRIUM CAPACITY--LOW FLUID, SEEK HELP IMMEDIATELY] warning that he’d seen just before he succumbed to the darkness.  He should be okay if he can drink some. He figures that since he’s being called by his name, the game is over. He isn’t really fond of that. He wanted to play for one more day.

“Connor?”

“I’m… stable,” he whispers. His voice module is glitching, and he runs a quick diagnostic and repair, which will complete itself only when his thirium capacity reaches the low 90s.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell us that you were losing too much thirium? We could have killed you.”

Connor shakes his head, smiling. “Not at all. I would have warned you of any imminent danger. Do humans not black out after orgasms sometimes?”

Gavin snorts. “Okay, yeah, but we don’t do it because we lose just under half of our blood supply in a weekend.”

“I’m okay. I do need a drink, though,” he rasps. “Two pouches over the next four hours should be sufficient.”

“Hank almost strangled me, you know.”

Connor smirks a little bit. “Someone has to keep you in check, Master.”

“Oh, is that what this is about?”

Connor looks up at him and winks. “That’s what he thinks.”

“Is he up?” the Lieutenant in question bursts into the room, a harried expression on his face.

“He’s up.”

Hank's expression briefly turns furious, and then he's mostly flustered, letting out all his previous anxiety. “Fucking hell, Connor, are you kidding me?! How the fuck are we supposed to--”

“I’m alright, Hank. I chose to push myself that far. Had I been in imminent danger, I would have stopped you immediately using our agreed-upon term.”

“Right--well--shit! Fuck, you can’t scare me like that, okay? Can you promise that you’ll warn us when you do shit like that? Don’t just do it, we need to know.”

Connor nods, upset with himself for worrying his boyfriend. “I promise,” he says quietly. “I love you too.”

“Alright, I’m not here for lovey dovey shit. You two have fun, I’m gonna go grab a couple more pouches of blue-blood. You’re gonna down them both.”

“I will,” Connor promises, his answer bouncing off the door, now slammed shut.

“Daddy?” he asks after a bit of silence. He knows he doesn’t _need_ to use the term anymore, but Hank is always endeared by it, and so he uses it judiciously (to butter him up or before he says something that could potentially fluster or anger him, mostly).

“Yeah, baby.”

“Thank you for watching, and for playing with us.”

Hank just pats his cheek, pulling his fingers through Connor’s hair until he falls back into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> welp thanks a ton for reading. i wrote this a while back and didn't have any intention of posting it, but i hit fuck it today, so now you all read the filth in my brain, you're welcome ;)
> 
> let me know what you think, drop a kudos if it's good, let me know if you guys wanna see Yellow Week and Blue week too ;)
> 
> stay tuned for my SuperBat and DBH chapter fics, more of those will be out soon. y'all rock.
> 
> <3Daisy


End file.
